


Prisoner #AP59864

by thecheekydragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Prison, b range, blue not orange, capped a cop, cell 505, cellblock 5, cons in jumpsuits, fest fic, inmate!Arthur, inmate!Merlin, keep your feelings tucked the fuck in, manslaughter, murder in the first degree, parole, pecking order, prag/bitch/boy/kid, stick to The Code, trolling for fish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecheekydragon/pseuds/thecheekydragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Pendragon lands in prison for a dime on a manslaughter conviction and meets cocky inmate Merlin Emrys, who is serving a life sentence for a crime he may not have even committed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prisoner #AP59864

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ on April 22, 2012.
> 
> Written for 2012 round of [glomp-fest](http://glomp-fest.livejournal.com)
> 
> Note: Rape/Non-Con warning applied though it is really only hints of rape/non-con/dub-con. It is prison after all.

**  
The intake guard - a large man with red-blond curls and a beard whose name plate read L. Knight – handed Arthur a box of institutional garb and effects and instructed him to “strip down” and to hand over all personal belongings, including his clothes and jewellery, to be logged and kept until his release.

Arthur looked around the dismal room for a spot to change clothes.

“If you’re looking for a change room,” Officer Knight remarked dryly, “You aren’t gonna find one.” He busied himself by shuffling through the forms on the counter in front of him. “You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen.” 

Arthur stripped out of his clothes quickly and handed them to the intake guard. He slipped his thumb ring – the only thing he had of his mother’s – off as well and placed it on the counter. Trying very hard not to feel self-conscious now that he was completely naked and exposed, he opened and sifted through the box that he had been given.

The box held a variety of items he would need during his stay here: four sets of clothes (two pant and shirt combos, two jumpsuits), two sets of sleep wear, four white t-shirts, four pairs of socks, four briefs, one pair of shoes, one light jacket, a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and a shaving kit. 

He selected a pair of briefs, socks, a white t-shirt, a button shirt and a pair of pants from the box and began to redress, eternally thankful that the clothes were mundane shades of blue and grey, unlike the bright orange he had been expecting. Arthur supposed he had seen far too many prison movies, which had created those expectations. But so far, prison was nothing like he had imagined.

This was it, he thought, as Officer Knight led him out of the intake area to the general prison. This was going to be his “home” for a minimum of four years, until he qualified for consideration of parole. He had been sentenced to ten years upon conviction for manslaughter and court-ordered to serve his time at Albion, a maximum security prison. While it was generally not practice for those convicted of manslaughter as a result of a drinking and driving fatality to serve their sentence in a prison classified as maximum security, Lance – who was Arthur’s best friend and defence lawyer – had said the judge had intended to make an example of him – to send a message that no one was beyond the reach of the law and that everyone should be punished accordingly. It didn’t matter who he was or who his father was.

Arthur couldn’t disagree. He had killed someone – a thirty-two year old woman with a husband and three young children. He deserved to go to prison. And he deserved to serve his time in a maximum security environment. He was not Arthur Pendragon, the son of prominent businessman Uther Pendragon, and Vice President of Pendragon Incorporated here. In Albion, he was simply Prisoner #AP59864. 

Officer Knight led him down a walkway that housed a row of cells. “This is B Range, Cellblock 5,” the guard told him. “And your new home is Cell 505.” He tapped on the outer side of the barred door to the cell and, somewhere unseen, a mechanism was engaged to release the lock on the door.

Officer Knight leaned against the bars and gestured Arthur forward into the opening. “You’re bunking with Emrys here,” the guard said, flicking his head toward a dark-haired young man sprawled across the bottom bunk. “His last cellmate got shanked, creating an unexpected vacancy,” the guard continued. “But probably a good match for a princess like you.” Officer Knight grinned. “Just remember to play nice, huh Merlin?” he said to the other man, then pulled the cell door closed, reengaging the lock.

The young man the guard had called “Emrys” and “Merlin” sat up and moved to the edge of the bunk cot, his gaze flicking over Arthur in assessment. Arthur set his box of prison goodies down then and, wanting to get off on the right footing, extended his hand toward his cellmate. “Merlin, is it? I’m Arthur.”

The young inmate glanced at Arthur’s outstretched hand, his expression purposely neutral, making no move to shake it. Instead, he drawled out some words of wisdom: “A word of advice. Never extend your hand out to anyone in here. A con might see it as an invitation to shank you or--” The corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes glistened with amusement. “At the very least you’ll end up with a palm full of some con’s just jacked jizz.”

Arthur withdrew his hand and wiped his palms down the front of his cotton-polyester pants. He heard Merlin chuckle. 

Arthur went about unpacking his box, placing items in the empty metal locker that was to be his, subtly trying to take in his surroundings. The cell was approximately twelve by nine, give or take, with bunked metal cots up against one wall, lockers at the wall end of the bunks, a stainless steel toilet and sink combo in one corner. It was a cramped space – hell, the master bathroom in his condominium home was larger than this –for one person, let alone two, with complete lack of privacy, but Arthur knew he had to make do and adapt. He had no other choice. 

“So, what you in for?” Merlin asked, as though making small talk.

“I...I, um, hit someone with my car,” Arthur responded. He hadn’t quite gotten used to saying the words “manslaughter” and “killed someone” out loud yet.

“Oh. So manslaughter for killing someone because you were driving while drunk then,” Merlin correctly guessed and articulated what Arthur couldn’t. Arthur raised his eyebrows and Merlin shrugged. “They don’t usually send you here for just bumping someone with your car. You know?”

Arthur let a few minutes pass before asking, “How about you?”

“Murder. In the first degree,” Merlin said easily. “Good thing there’s no death penalty here or I’d be sitting on death row right now. Capped a cop, see.”

Arthur did his best to mask his surprise. This young man – he pegged Merlin for twenty-four or twenty-five, though the jumpsuit he seemed to favour wearing over the pants and shirt accentuated his youthfulness – was a cop killer? It didn’t seem possible. He didn’t _look_ like someone who had killed an officer of the law, though Arthur had to admit that he didn’t know what a cop killer was supposed to look like. Though he would have expected hard edges, deranged eyes, and crazy twitches – not high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, and stoic calmness. 

“Yeah?” he finally squeaked out, hoping Merlin wouldn’t catch the panic in his voice. Maybe Merlin was just yanking his chain, trying to scare him or something.

“Yeah,” Merlin said, looking suddenly very solemn. He shifted his glance to the side then and screwed his mouth into a smirk. “But don’t worry. It wasn’t me who stabbed my last cellmate with a spoon shank. Despite what Officer Knight claims, I generally play nice.” The smirk turned into a full grin. “Unless you snore like a bear, I’m probably not gonna stab you in your sleep.”

**

Despite residual reservations brought on by their earlier conversation, Arthur stuck close to Merlin in the mess hall at dinner time. After all, it wasn’t as though he knew anybody. Merlin was the only fellow inmate he had so far met.

They sat on a bench on the same side of a table across from an inmate Merlin called “Gwaine”, who dug into the food on his tray like it was his last meal. This made Arthur wonder.

Gwaine scraped the last bit of food into his mouth then gestured with the tip of his head over his shoulder, saying, “Alvarr and his gang are looking to troll for fresh fish.” He nodded his head toward Arthur but addressed Merlin, “You might want to keep an eye on your boy.”

Merlin nodded, casting a furtive glance over Gwaine’s shoulder at a group of rough-looking men, whom Arthur presumed was ‘Alvarr and his gang’. Arthur remained still, resisting the urge to shift away his discomfort. He had a million questions, starting with ‘Who was Alvarr?’ and ‘What did it mean to troll for fresh fish?’ but now was not the time to ask. In any event, he was damn sure he wasn’t going to like the answers. He and Merlin finished their meals in silence as Gwaine rambled on about this and that. And when Alvarr’s group got up to dispose of their trash and return their trays, Arthur tried very hard to ignore them and refused to meet anyone’s eyes, though he was acutely aware that one of them – Alvarr, he was pretty sure – was, for the lack of a better word, ‘ogling’ him and grinning.

Later, when he and Merlin were back in their cell, getting ready before “lights out” and “night lockdown”, he decided to broach the subject.

“Who’s Alvarr?”

“Not a very nice con,” Merlin replied, shrugging out of the jumpsuit. He exchanged the white t-shirt for a grey one and slipped on the institutional-issued sleep pants. Arthur felt like he should give Merlin some privacy but there weren’t many other places to look. “In the Albion pecking order, Alvarr is somewhere in the top. Serving sentences for multiple murders. Has gang affiliations. Also a major player in the drug scene here.”

Arthur followed Merlin’s lead and changed out of his day clothes and into his sleep wear, noting the way Merlin’s eyes seemed to rake briefly over his bare torso.

“That pack you saw him with in the mess hall are his boys,” Merlin continued. “Some are acquaintances from the outside. Some are acquaintances from inside. A couple are boys he caught by trolling fish. It’s a nasty pack and you want to stay clear of them.”

Arthur really did not want his naivety to show through but he had no other choice. So, he asked, “Trolling fish? What does that mean?”

Merlin’s grin was patient. “Fish are newbies – new inmates,” he explained. “You are a fish. When a con trolls for fresh fish, he’s looking for new blood. A pretty con usually. Someone he can make into his boy, his bitch. New boys do whatever the con says, right? Otherwise, you’ll get a shiv in your side or a beating laid on ya so hard you’ll wish you’d gotten the shiv instead.”

Merlin looked at Arthur carefully, as if gauging his reaction. Arthur forced himself to appear unshaken, which was the farthest thing from what he was actually feeling. He had seen enough prison movies to know what could happen to him. But this – this was real.

“And Gwaine thinks Alvarr is going to try to troll me?” Arthur asked, his voice giving away his unease. He never thought he would ever be having such a conversation.

For a moment, Merlin’s eyes registered something akin to empathy but then, just like that, it was quickly gone. “Yeah,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor. “You’re young, good-looking and not a typical con – exactly the kind of fish Alvarr likes to break.” Arthur may have made a strangled noise in his throat upon hearing this because Merlin looked up suddenly and said, “Look, if you want me to keep you safe, I will. But there are conditions.”

“Conditions?” Arthur asked, his voice sounding distant to his ears, like he was speaking a million miles away.

“In here, protection is given in exchange for certain...favours,” Merlin said. He seemed to hesitate on the last word and Arthur chose not to ask what “favours” might be expected, though he could very well guess. Instead, he asked, “And how are you going to keep me safe?” 

“It’s a matter of establishing you as my boy,” Merlin said matter-of-factly. “The cons in here, including Alvarr, will leave other cons’ boys alone. That’s how it works.”

Arthur nodded. The whole of it was entirely fucked up. But he had to admit that, if he was going to be made someone’s ‘boy’, he would rather it be Merlin than Alvarr.

“Okay,” he said, noting the surprise he saw flicker across Merlin’s face, however brief. “Can I ask you something?” he prodded further. Merlin nodded. “This isn’t the first time you’ve offered to protect a fish, is it?” Arthur wanted to be sure that Merlin knew what he was doing.

Merlin shook his head. “No.”

Arthur suspected Merlin was bending the truth a little, which wasn’t exactly reassuring. Still. “Okay,” he said again then, “Ever been a con’s boy?” he risked asking.

Merlin met Arthur’s eyes with unnerving confidence. “I was twenty-one when I came here three years ago,” he said quietly. “Had cred for capping a cop but you don’t come in that young without ending up someone’s prag.”

“Prag?”

“Bitch. Boy. Kid. Whatever you want to call it.” Merlin grinned at him. “You really need to learn the lingo and catch up on the Code,” he said. “But that lesson’s gonna have to wait. Time to sleep.”

Arthur agreed. He was very tired. It had been a very long day. And he had roughly fifteen hundred more days like it to get through. 

So, he prepared to climb up to the top bunk but Merlin put a hand on his arm and said, “Top bunk’s mine, actually. I was just taking advantage of not having a cellmate earlier.” He grinned then hoisted himself onto the top bunk.

Arthur settled on the bottom bunk, deciding to pretend he was on a rustic camping trip to distract him from the discomfort of the thin mattress pad and meagre blankets. Then he closed his eyes, barely registering Merlin’s quiet ‘Night, Arthur’ before sinking soundly into sleep.

**

“Always keep your feelings tucked the fuck in. Emotions make you vulnerable and the sharks here will rip you apart.”

Merlin was explaining “The Code” to him – the rules that cons were expected to live by in interacting with each other in prison. He had already versed Arthur on the prison slang and was now going over the highlights of the Convicts’ Code. Arthur might have found it fascinating in any other circumstances. But in here – as a new “con” who was expected to not only know these unwritten rules but to adhere to them or risk harm, it was a whole other and rather frightening lesson.

“In other words, don’t let them see you sweat?” Arthur tried to joke.

Merlin grinned then frowned. “Every con learns to mask his emotions pretty fucking quick,” he continued, giving Arthur a look that was so serious it was unnerving. “It’s actually easier than you think. Just don’t give a con anything to hang you by. Got it?”

Arthur nodded. He got it. As it was, Arthur was not a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve. Being raised by Uther Pendragon had taken care of that. But the prison environment was different, a place where any kind of emotion could be taken advantage of. He understood that he had to be careful. The fellow cons in here were not his friends. They would never be his friends – not even Merlin. It was dog-eat-dog – or something like that - and friendship was a luxury. Emotional distance was necessary. Still, it was darkly depressing to think one had to spend four years or more living an emotionally void existence. And what about cons like Merlin who were serving a life sentence?

“Just stick to the Code,” Merlin said, “and you’ll be fine.”

**

It only took a week before marking Arthur as Merlin’s boy came to be tested.

They were in the showers on B Range - Merlin and Arthur and four other cons from their Cellblock. Arthur was wrapping a towel around his waist, while Merlin was just finishing up under the spray when the cons in the showers with them suddenly made themselves scarce.

Alvarr, flanked by two of his cons, eyed Arthur from head to toe, a lazy predatory expression on his face.

“Let him be,” Merlin said, his body naked and wet, having just shut off the shower spray. He staked his claim. “The fish is mine.”

Alvarr gave Merlin an amused look. “Alright, Emrys,” he said and Arthur thought his tone sounded dangerous. He tried to remain calm and not let fear take hold of him. “I’ll let you keep the fish.” For a moment, Arthur felt relief but then panic gripped him when Alvarr said, “But there’s a string attached.”

Merlin, who looked anything but vulnerable in his naked state, Arthur marvelled, asked nonchalantly, “What’s that?”

Alvarr smiled, a cruel twist of his lips that conveyed a hardness that had been formed over years of living a hard life. “You take him,” he said. “Here. Right now.”

Arthur thought he sensed a hint of hesitancy in Merlin’s stance, as if he was weighing his options, but if it had ever been there, it was quickly gone. Merlin pulled Arthur roughly, and with a firm hand on his back, he pushed Arthur into the shower wall. Unsure what else to do but cooperate, Arthur planted his palms against the still warm and wet tile, as Merlin pressed the length of his body against him from behind. 

Arthur closed his eyes. He knew that in order for him to be spared from being made Alvarr’s bitch, Merlin had to make Arthur his boy. He knew it – understood it – but he still wasn’t prepared for it. How could anyone be prepared for something like this?

He felt the heat of Merlin’s body pressed against him, Merlin’s hand coming around his front to loosen the hold of his towel. Then he felt Merlin’s mouth on his neck, his teeth sinking into his shoulder. His hand skirting over his hips, his buttocks, his dick. It was unfamiliar and strange and all together wrong. Arthur did not want this to happen. But it was going to happen and Arthur much preferred that it would be Merlin than Alvarr or anyone else.

Merlin’s mouth and hands suddenly stopped roaming. Arthur felt cool air between them as Merlin created space between their bodies. Arthur heard him say to Alvarr, “Think I’m gonna let the fish take me.” He laughed. It sounded hollow. “See if he’s man enough.”

He heard Alvarr now laugh. “Whatever turns your crank, boy.”

Merlin quickly changed their positions, pulling Arthur forward by the hips up against him.

“Best to fuck me hard and quick,” Merlin whispered so low Arthur almost didn’t hear him. “Don’t be gentle. And for godsakes, don’t fucking shake while you do it.”

Arthur willed every one of his nerves to relax, pushing aside all his pent up anxiety, doing his best to follow Merlin’s advice. He stroked his member, hoping desperately he’d manage an erection or it would be the end for him – he understood that much. He managed to get hard by calling up as many wank fantasies as he could and slid the head of his cock between Merlin’s firm cheeks, searching for and nudging at his hole. Then he pressed into Merlin – no warning, no apology, no hesitancy, no gentleness. Just like Merlin had told him. And while he rammed his cock in and out of Merlin, he tried not to think that he was probably hurting him, or that he was exposing them both to all kinds of potential diseases, or that he was fucking a man he hardly knew in front of three others in the showers on the range of Albion Prison, and instead concentrated on Merlin’s words and the conviction in his voice that told Arthur this is what he had to do. Because even if this was terrible and dirty and completely ugly, the alternative was far, far worse.

Arthur surprised himself by coming quickly and he pulled out to let his seed eject mostly on rather than in Merlin. Merlin caught his right hand and yanked it around to his front, shoving it against his prick, encouraging Arthur to jerk it. Arthur complied, and with only a few quick pulls of Arthur’s hand, Merlin came, spurting against the shower wall.

Alvarr let out a whistle and his con buddies jeered. “Didn’t think the fish had it in him,” Alvarr remarked.

Arthur moved away from Merlin, plucked his towel from the floor of the showers and wrapped it around his hips. Merlin retrieved his own towel and did the same. He did not look at Arthur.

“Okay, Emrys,” Alvarr said. “He’s yours.” He nodded at the two cons with him and they all retreated.

Arthur wanted to say something to Merlin about what had just happened but he knew now was not the time to do it. Besides, Merlin was already padding out of the showers, going about business as usual, as though what had just happened wasn’t worth talking about anyway.

**

When they were back in their cell, fully dressed, Arthur sitting on his bottom bunk and Merlin buttoning up a clean jumpsuit, Arthur decided it was time to say something.

“I’m sorry, Merlin.”

Merlin flicked a glance at him. As usual, his expression gave nothing away. “Never be sorry, Arthur,” he said. “For anything you do in here. You did what I told you to do like a good boy, a right bitch. And if you hadn’t, you’d be bending over for one of those fuck bastards right now.”

“Still, you let me...and I...” Arthur tried to express. The truth was, Arthur was grateful. And he wanted Merlin to know that he truly was.

“Remember the Code, Arthur,” Merlin said, something almost soft passing over his face. Then he made his voice hard. “You’re gonna get us both fucking killed if you keep fucking talking like that.”

Later, at night, just after lights out at twenty-two hundred hours, Merlin’s voice floated down in the quiet darkness.

“Haven’t had good cock like that in a long while,” he said. “Just thought you should know.”

Arthur stared up at the underside of the top bunk cot. Merlin had let him off the hook. Arthur was grateful for this, but it still didn’t make him feel any less guilty. 

**

Gwen came to visit a month after Arthur had been sent to Albion. He had not yet qualified for an open visit, so Arthur’s visit with Gwen had to take place through a Plexiglas window with contact by phone receiver only. It was degrading and humiliating. Arthur had almost refused the visit but Merlin had reminded him that visits from those on the outside don’t happen very often so Arthur decided to make the best of it.

He picked up the receiver on his end and tried to smile at Gwen, who looked decidedly uncomfortable and a tad bit terrified. “You shouldn’t have come, Gwen,” he said softly.

“I wanted to see you,” Gwen said through the receiver. “I needed to...to-to see if you are doing okay.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur said. He knew his reply was short and sharp but he was not ready for a full conversation with Gwen. What could he possibly tell her? 

Gwen’s face pinched in concern. “Are you getting enough to eat? Are you sleeping okay? Are they treating you all right?” 

“It’s not a country club, Gwen,” Arthur retorted with a sigh into the phone and immediately felt bad when he saw her flinch as if stung by his words. “I mean, it’s hard but I’m doing okay.” He offered a little smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

A part of Arthur wanted to tell Gwen about Merlin. How Merlin was looking out for him. How he hadn’t become Alvarr’s or some other con’s bitch. And how Merlin had saved him from that fate. But that necessitated details that Arthur could not share with Gwen. Not now. Maybe not ever.

He was surprised to see tears in Gwen’s eyes. “I can’t help but worry about you, Arthur,” she said. “You don’t know how it’s been for me...how much I miss you...how scared I am that something will happen to you in there.” She inhaled a deep breath, trying to gather herself. “Lance says it’s a tough prison. There’s a lot of violence and...”

“Gwen,” Arthur said firmly, getting her attention. “Don’t worry about me,” he repeated. “In fact, just forget me. Don’t even think about me anymore.” 

Gwen looked alarmed and protested, “I’m not going to just forget you, Arthur--” 

“Go and live your life, Gwen,” Arthur continued. He knew what needed to be said. “Marry someone like Lance and have a bunch of babies. You’ll be a good wife and mother.”

“Arthur--”

“It’ll be at least four years before I get out of here,” Arthur said. “You deserve someone better than me. So I’m asking you to forget me. Please.” Arthur gave Gwen one last pleading look and then hung up the receiver. 

He stood and signalled to the guard to take him back to his cell.

**

It was after lights out and Arthur and Merlin were in their beds. Merlin kept his voice low, floating on the surface of the darkness surrounding them.

“I got a mom on the outside who loves me despite the shit I’ve done. And a foster brother who will hopefully take a different path than me. What about you, Arthur? You got anybody on the outside?”

Arthur thought about his father and Gwen.

“I had a girl,” he replied. “She loved me, I guess. But this has been very hard for her. I want her to forget about me and live her life.”

Merlin hummed a non-judgemental response.

Arthur liked to think that this made him sound like the noble one, wishing for Gwen to move on, but the truth was Arthur was afraid that Gwen hadn’t ever loved him enough to stick by him. It was easier to let her go before she left him, he reasoned.

“My father is very angry and disappointed with me,” Arthur continued. “He has pretty much cut our ties. Uther Pendragon is not a man to give unconditional love.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but Arthur knew that Merlin, who was astutely discerning, would catch it.

“Are you?” Merlin asked, surprising him.

Arthur thought about it some. He loved Gwen. He loved Lance. He even loved his half-sister Morgana who had invested a great deal of time in making his life a living hell over the years. And, despite never having even known her, Arthur loved his mother. But, in many respects when it came to love, Arthur did not think he was much different than his father. He resented his father’s expectations and the pressure he had foisted upon Arthur in insisting that he be the best at everything he did. He blamed his father for the drinking problem he had developed as a result of these expectations and pressures, a problem that had contributed to the accident that had killed that thirty-two year old wife and mother. Arthur knew the woman’s death was his fault and not his father’s but the resentment and anger were there, no matter how hard he tried to quash these emotions. He loved his father, he supposed. But Arthur didn’t think that love was wholly unconditional. Not by a long shot.

“I don’t know,” was all he could say.

**

It was between afternoon counts. Arthur was lounging on his cot, his back against the cement block wall, legs stretched out, reading a book he had been allowed – more to pass the time than because he was interested in the actual story. Merlin was up on his cot, drumming his fingers on the metal of the bunk, obviously restless.

Arthur turned a page, flicking his gaze up when Merlin suddenly hopped down, appearing before him, a grin on his face.

“Fuck, I’m bored,” Merlin announced. “And really fucking horny.” He caught Arthur’s eyes with his. “Remember those favours I mentioned?” he asked, holding Arthur’s gaze intensely for a moment. 

Arthur nodded. He remembered. He had wondered when Merlin was going to bring them up. So far, he had kept Arthur safe and hadn’t asked for anything in return.

Merlin raked his eyes over Arthur’s body, his gaze coming to rest on Arthur’s crotch. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, almost nervously it seemed, and said, “I want to suck you.”

Arthur was surprised. He had expected (and imagined) a lot of possible things regarding these favours that his cellmate would cash in on, but Merlin professing that he wanted to suck him had not been one of them. Arthur closed his book and set it aside. He moved from the wall to the edge of the cot mattress. “Okay,” he said slowly, catching and holding Merlin’s gaze.

Merlin knelt between his legs on the cold cement floor of the cell. With long, practiced fingers, he quickly undid the buttons just above the waist of the jumpsuit Arthur infrequently wore, pushing at the fabric to reveal Arthur’s slowly hardening member. Merlin passed a tongue over his lips again then glanced up at Arthur, the pupils of his blue eyes blown wide with arousal and something else Arthur couldn’t quite discern.

“You don’t have to let me do this,” Merlin said. “I won’t make you. And I won’t stop protecting you if you tell me you don’t want me to do this.”

Arthur suddenly realized that Merlin was asking his permission, was seeking his consent. Apparently, despite all the rules of The Code that dictated otherwise, Merlin would not take what he wanted. Arthur appreciated this more than he could ever express and was surprised to find that he wanted this. He wanted Merlin. Wanted Merlin’s lips wrapped around his cock, the wet heat of his mouth swallowing him down, that tantalizing tongue licking the head and shaft. Arthur wanted it like he had never wanted anything. He wanted – needed – to be close to this man, in a way that was intimate and trusting even if it was all together bizarre and strange. His intense wanting surprised and scared the hell out of him but Arthur was very certain he wanted this. 

In answer, Arthur placed a hand on the back of Merlin’s neck and pulled his head forward and down, encouraging him. Merlin wasted no time getting down to business. He mouthed at and licked the head of Arthur’s cock, ran his tongue along the hard shaft and swallowed him down so deeply Arthur thought he would die from the pure pleasure it gave him. Merlin sucked him and pleasured him until Arthur finally bucked his hips up and exploded into Merlin’s warm-wet mouth, feeling relieved yet disappointed upon obtaining release.

Merlin pulled his mouth off with a pop then slipped a hand into his own jumpsuit, jerking his own cock roughly. Arthur delighted in watching the emotions play across Merlin’s face as he peaked and then came – the way his high cheekbones flushed with colour, his plush lips parted, his stubborn jaw slackened, his long eyelashes fluttered, and his head tipped back exposing the pale skin of his long, sleek, beautiful neck. 

It was a delight Arthur was sure he would never tire of. 

**

It soon became something they did in the relative privacy of their shared cell, after lights out, between regular counts, or during periods of lockdown. Arthur gave whatever Merlin wanted without Merlin needing to ask permission. They never talked about it, but Arthur understood it was a source of solace for both of them, a way of connecting in this dismal, lonely place. Merlin would suck Arthur and bring him off, sometimes Arthur would bring Merlin off, but Merlin always let Arthur fuck him – it was never the other way around - as though he understood how new and strange this was to Arthur and he didn’t want to push him.

**

Merlin returned from a visit with his mother one day in a particularly foul mood.

“What happened?” Arthur prodded cautiously. He had learned that Merlin had his dark moods that were sometimes best to skirt around.

“Nothing,” Merlin muttered and Arthur raised his eyebrows. From what Merlin had told him, Merlin’s mother Hunith was a saintly woman who loved her son, no matter that he was serving a life sentence for first degree murder. Merlin ran an agitated hand through his hair. “It’s just—My mom says my foster brother has gotten himself into a lot of trouble lately.” He threw his hands up. “Fuck! If I’d known Mordred would fuck up his whole future like this, I never would have--” Merlin suddenly stopped, clamping down on his anger.

“Never would have what?” Arthur probed.

“Nothing,” Merlin said, his usual emotional stoicism returning. “Just forget it,” he told Arthur.

But Arthur could not forget it. It was probably his Pendragon upbringing that had conditioned him to be stubborn and persistent, but something was nagging at him. So when Lance came to visit him that month, Arthur asked his lawyer friend to look into Merlin’s case.

“I need you to find out everything you can about that case,” he told Lance.

His friend looked puzzled. “Why? What has this got to do with--”

“Nothing. Just do it, Lance. Please.”

“Okay.” Lance shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair and cleared his throat. “Gwen wants to...” he began hesitantly then, “She really wants to come see you, Arthur.” 

Arthur shook his head. “You need to tell her to forget me, Lance.”

“I can’t do that.”

Arthur did his best to smile. “Yes, you can. You are my best friend, Lance, and I love you like a brother. But the best thing you can do for me and for Gwen is to settle down with her and have lots of cute babies.”

Lance’s face flushed and he looked every bit forlorn. Arthur knew this wasn’t easy for him. Lance always did the right thing even if it wasn’t always the right thing for him. But Arthur thought it was time. 

Arthur looked intently at his friend and said, “You and Gwen need to move on. Together.” When Lance flushed again, Arthur said comfortingly, “I know you have feelings for her. You always have. And Gwen adores you. If she’s not already in love with you then she needs to let herself fall in love with you. Without feeling guilty about me, about hurting me.” Arthur paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “I’m okay, Lance. But the two of you still need to be. Tell Gwen she needs to let go.”

Lance met Arthur’s eyes and nodded. Arthur was relieved his friend finally understood. And though Arthur had expected this to hurt more, he was surprised to find that it actually hurt little. The only thing that hurt truly was that his friends had been wasting their time together by holding on to the illusion that Arthur somehow still fit into their lives when he no longer belonged there.

“Just find out whatever you can about Merlin’s case, okay?” Arthur told Lance in parting before the guard came to return him to his cell.

**

They were in the mess hall, lined up to receive lunch du jour, Gwaine filling Arthur and Merlin in on the week’s yard talk as they advanced slowly up the queue. Merlin had turned to impart a “fuck that” in response to one of Gwaine’s gossipy bits when he was shoved, quite forcefully, by a young con in the line ahead of him. 

Merlin shoved determinedly back. The shoving soon escalated into fist punches, open-hand shots, and targeted kicks, the crowd of cons around the pair jeering and egging them on.

Arthur stepped forward, intending to back Merlin up, but Gwaine put a hand on his arm to stay him.

“Not your fight,” Gwaine stated.

“But--” Arthur started to protest.

“Merlin can take care of himself,” Gwaine said. 

Looking on, Arthur had to agree that Merlin was doing just that, meeting shot for shot and perhaps getting an extra shot or two in besides.

Gwaine attempted to explain. “See, the new kid thinks he can prove himself by messing with the pecking order,” he commentated. “Only problem is that he’s pegged Merlin as a mid-level con in the ranking system. That’s his first mistake. His second is underestimating Merlin and his level of dangerousness. Merlin’s all cute and innocent-looking,” Gwaine said with a grin, “but he’ll clock that fish damn good.”

Just then Merlin did clock the fish. With a metal tray. To both sides of the kid’s head and a forceful blow to the forehead for good measure. 

“Alright, break it up,” Officer Knight said, now finally intervening in the fight. He restrained Merlin who looked like he wasn’t about to let up on assaulting the young con. “Lesson well taught, Emrys,” the screw said. “But it’s gonna cost you three days.” He nodded to the guard called Percival. “Get the kid to the infirmary.” He led a restrained Merlin away with him, throwing over his shoulder to the rest of them, “Show’s over, Ladies. Back to your business.”

“Three days?” Arthur asked Gwaine as they returned to their places in line.

“Yeah,” Gwaine said. “In solitary.”

So Merlin was going to be placed in solitary, Arthur thought. For three days. He wondered for a moment what solitary confinement was like and how Merlin would cope with being in there. Then he began ruminating on what it was going to be like for him without Merlin around for the next three days.

**

The first night in the cell without Merlin was bearable but Arthur had trouble sleeping, waking up repeatedly through the night, restless, as though his body and mind could sense something was not quite right. He was completely exhausted as a result at morning count, an observation Officer Myror, the guard on count duty, eagerly pointed out and needled him about.

In the late morning, just before lunch, Gwaine sidled up next to Arthur in the yard. 

“While Merlin’s in solitary, I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” Gwaine told him.

“And why would you do that?”

“Merlin’s a friend,” Gwaine said, surprising Arthur. He didn’t think cons made friends, at least according to what Merlin had told him. “And I know he wouldn’t want any harm to come to you while he’s cooped up.”

Arthur wondered if Gwaine’s offer to ‘keep an eye’ on him came with any requisite return favours, but Arthur wasn’t about to ask. He figured he’d have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

At night, after lights out, Arthur once again found it difficult to sleep, despite being utterly exhausted. It wasn’t that he felt lonely in the quiet cell all by himself – well, he did, but it wasn’t just that. It was that he missed Merlin. He missed hearing his voice before he fell asleep. He missed the sounds of shuffling as Merlin moved around in his cot above. He missed the faint scent that was distinctly Merlin and the idea of Merlin just being present that always seemed to comfort Arthur. He missed the intimacy he and Merlin sometimes shared at night, their lips or bodies touching, easing each other’s pain.

Arthur punched a fist into his pillow, determined to sleep. He gave it a full thirty-second go before he moved out of bed and reached up to grab the pillow laying atop Merlin’s neatly made up cot. Then he settled back down in his own bed, Merlin’s pillow nestled in his arms, the faint scent of Merlin lulling him to sleep.

**

Merlin was returned to Cell 505 exactly seventy-two and a half hours after he’d been confined to solitary. He looked drained and tired and Arthur noticed that the cut on the rise of his left cheekbone, the only injury he had sustained in the fight, was now starting to heal. Arthur wanted to touch it, to run a soothing finger over the wound but he curled his hands into fists to stifle the urge.

“So...What’s solitary like?” he asked instead, casting his gaze down so that Merlin wouldn’t see the range of emotions he was feeling.

“Pretty fucking boring,” Merlin said and Arthur had to laugh. “The only things to do are to think,” – He pointed to his head – “and to jerk yourself off until your dick falls off.” Merlin gave a lopsided grin. “And those two things don’t necessarily go together well.”

It seemed to Arthur that while he had been practically pining, Merlin appeared relatively unaffected by his three-day separation from Arthur. 

In the afternoon between counts, Merlin focused on playing a game of solitaire while Arthur read a paperback that held no real interest. At dinner, Merlin regaled Gwaine with the horrors of solitary confinement , grinning and winking at Arthur as though they held a shared secret. Arthur and Merlin learned from Gwaine that the fish who had started the fight with Merlin had spent only a day in the infirmary, sustaining relatively minor injuries, which they all agreed he had deserved, and was currently being trolled by a con called Muirden who seemed to have taken a fancy to the boy’s foolhardy attempt to insert himself into the pecking order. It seemed the Convict Code ruled after all.

At night, they prepared for bed as usual, Merlin settling into his cot and Arthur getting into his before “lights out” was called and night lockdown instituted. When the lights did go out in the cells and dimmed in the cellblock and range hallways, Arthur found himself staring at the underside of Merlin’s cot in the darkness, once again unable to sleep. He had been unsettled by Merlin’s absence and should be feeling comforted now that he was back, but something didn’t feel right inside him. He had missed Merlin – that much was true – but it didn’t seem Merlin had missed him much. And this bothered Arthur, troubled him in a way that he couldn’t quite understand or explain.

It was well after lights out and past the time Arthur should have fallen asleep when he heard Merlin slip from his cot and drop to the floor beside Arthur’s bed. On instinct, Arthur lifted the blankets and Merlin climbed into the bed with him, pressing the length of his body closely against Arthur’s. Arthur felt Merlin’s lips brush against his and Arthur kissed back, taking Merlin’s lips fully with his mouth. Merlin felt so good. They kissed and touched, their limbs intertwined, their bodies pressed together, almost clinging.

Arthur sensed the neediness in Merlin’s touches and kisses and he was willing to give Merlin whatever he wanted or needed. Merlin shifted, shuffling his body around so that his back and buttocks pressed up against Arthur’s front. Merlin reached behind and pulled the back of his sleep pants down and then pulled down the front of Arthur’s. His hand grasped hold of Arthur’s cock and guided it between his butt cheeks, rubbing the pre-come coated head against his entrance for lubrication.

Arthur pressed in slowly, listening to Merlin’s breath hitch then hiss. Once fully in, he established a rhythm, at first slow and gentle then more fast-paced and frantic, just the way Merlin seemed to like it. Soon Merlin was panting and moaning. Arthur closed his eyes, revelling in listening to those wonderful sounds Merlin made.

“Missed you,” Merlin murmured between moans. “Don’t ever want to be away from you again.”

They both came quickly. Arthur pulled out and Merlin tucked himself into Arthur’s body, promptly falling asleep. Sleep came just as quickly for Arthur, his lips brushing against the nape of Merlin’s neck as the sound of Merlin’s breathing lulled him to sleep. 

**

“Coouunnttt!”

Arthur woke up to the guard’s call for morning count. It took him three seconds to remember and then to realize that Merlin was still tucked up against him in Arthur’s bunk so Arthur promptly shoved Merlin out onto the floor. It would not bode well if they were found in the same cot together. 

“Oww!” Merlin complained but quickly got to his feet and was at the cell door when it was opened for count, Arthur right behind him.

The guard on duty for count stopped in front of them. “Emrys. Pendragon,” he accounted, ticking off the cellblock roster. Then he glanced up and murmured, “See your time in solitary did no harm, Emrys.” Officer Myror sneered, “Bet Pendragon’s happy now that you’re back. Didn’t sleep a wink while you were in solitary.”

Back in the cell, gathering up their things to head to the showers, Merlin commented teasingly, “So you missed me, huh?”

Arthur had intended to fluff it off but found himself saying, “Yes, Merlin. I did.”

He had expected Merlin to scoff at him or at least tease him some more, but Merlin actually surprised him by looking quite pleased by his admission. “Well, I didn’t miss your snoring, that’s for sure,” he quipped.

“I don’t snore!” 

Merlin grinned at him and Arthur thought it was possibly the best thing he’d ever seen.

**

It was almost three months before Lance came to visit him again with some news about Merlin’s case.

“On the surface, it was a cut and dried case. Emrys not only confessed to the shooting but pled no contest on the charge of first degree murder.”

“But?” Arthur had known Lance long enough to recognize there was a ‘but’ somewhere in there.

Lance tilted his head. “ _But_ , there was some doubt expressed about Emrys’ guilt.”

“Doubt?”

This time Lance nodded. “By one of the investigating officers.” He leaned forward, setting his elbows on the wooden table. “See, Merlin was known by the local police as a pickpocket and general mischief maker but he had no record of violence aside from the occasional fight between friends. He got picked up once or twice a month but never for anything serious.”

“So....?” 

“So in the mind of one of the investigators, this never quite fit. How does a young punk whose worst offence may have been to let his little foster brother hang with him while he made mischief in the neighbourhood go from two-bit pickpocketing to shooting a cop?” 

It did seem a bit of a stretch but then Arthur had gone from being the Vice-President of a highly successful business corporation to being a prison bitch, so he figured he couldn’t make comment. “Wait,” Arthur said. “Merlin’s mentioned a foster brother. Got into a little trouble recently, I guess.”

Lance nodded. “Kid’s name is Mordred. Just turned seventeen but he was fourteen when all this happened. Described by the investigators as ‘creepy’ and ‘soulless’. In fact, it was the opinion of the one investigator that Mordred pulled the trigger and Emrys took the rap for his young foster brother.”

“What?” Arthur’s mind was whirling. On the one hand, it made sense; but on the other, it made no sense at all. Why would Merlin confess to shooting and killing a police officer when it was a guaranteed ticket to serving a life sentence in a maximum-security prison? But then, from what he had learned about Merlin over the past few months in here, Arthur could well envision Merlin believing he had to protect the fourteen year old boy from possible legal repercussions. It certainly fit with Merlin’s anger and distress upon hearing from his mother that teenage Mordred had gotten himself into trouble again.

“It couldn’t be proven, of course,” Lance said. “And the police were hell bent on indicting someone for the murder of one of their own. Emrys’ confession was all they needed. Creepy and soulless little Mordred slipped easily and comfortably under their mental rugs.”

Arthur understood how it could have happened. With a ready confession from Merlin, the police would not have looked for nor followed any other leads. 

“Why the interest in Emrys anyway?” Lance asked suddenly, his expression curious.

“I told you,” Arthur replied. “Merlin is my cellmate.”

“Yes,” Lance said, “but most prisoners don’t take much interest in their cellmates beyond preference for top or bottom bunk. So what gives, Arthur?”

“Nothing,” Arthur responded, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with such a response with Lance. Lance knew him too well. Arthur ran a hand through his hair and blew out a sigh. “Look, Merlin is important to me, okay?” 

“Okay,” his friend said. 

“I just want to help him if I can,” Arthur added. 

“Okay,” Lance said again. He looked at Arthur intently. “So long as you understand, Arthur, that you need to tread carefully with this. Some people don’t want help.”

Arthur nodded. He understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood. 

The guard signalled that visiting time was over. Arthur thanked Lance for the information, already trying to figure out what he thought he might do with it. When he got up from his chair at the wooden table, Lance caught his eyes. 

“Gwen and I are getting married,” he said. He cast his eyes downward. “I just thought you should know.”

Arthur nodded then let the guard escort him from the visiting room back to his cell. 

**

“People on the outside always think those of us on the inside are some kind of animals,” Merlin was saying, his voice low and quiet like it always was just before sleep. “But the truth is we’re just the same. Some of us here are a bit more fucked up than others but there’s just as many fucked up people on the outside too. Maybe more.”

Merlin may not have yet turned twenty-five, but Arthur thought he displayed a level of wisdom that few who have lived a lifetime had been able to achieve.

“You’re probably right,” Arthur answered then let himself drift off to sleep.

**

Merlin came back from visiting his mother in a right state. He sat on Arthur’s bunk, looking agitated, biting at his fingernails.

“Police have been around looking for Mordred,” he said without any prompting. “My mom says he took off a couple of days ago and she hasn’t heard from him at all. She’s really worried.”

“Your foster brother is old enough now to take responsibility for himself,” Arthur reasoned in an effort to comfort his cellmate. He had wanted to bring up the matter of Mordred for several days now but Arthur hadn’t known how best to approach it. 

“He’s only seventeen!” Merlin argued.

“When I was seventeen I worked at my father’s company after school,” Arthur told him.

“Yeah,” Merlin replied dryly, “and I bet you were a straight A student and the captain of the football, soccer, and badminton teams too.” He huffed out a sardonic laugh. “Or maybe I’ve got that wrong. Maybe you were head of the cheerleading squad.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but he got the point. His upbringing in the Pendragon household may have had its fair share of trouble spots, but Arthur hadn’t exactly grown up with the same disadvantages Merlin or Mordred had. 

“Look,” Merlin said, “Mordred doesn’t have anybody but my mom and me. He was put in foster care when he was a baby and was shifted around from family to family. He’s been with us since he was eight, the longest he’s ever been with any family. He’s like a real brother to me and I care about him. It’s my job as his big brother to look after him.”

“Hard to do when you’re in here,” Arthur said, hoping to make a point. Merlin may have took the rap to protect young Mordred but there wasn’t much Merlin could do now that he was behind bars serving a life sentence. 

Merlin didn’t say anything. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the cement floor of their cell and appeared to ruminate. Arthur decided it was time to go out on that limb.

“I had my lawyer friend Lance look into your case.”

Merlin’s eyes darted up, a faint look of alarm crossing his face that would have been missed by anyone but Arthur.

“He thinks it’s possible you falsely confessed to killing that cop,” Arthur continued. He knew he was on dangerous ground but needed to get this out there. “I think your fourteen year old foster brother pulled the trigger and shot that cop and you confessed to protect him. He was just a kid and you were worried he’d be sent or taken away and you couldn’t let that happen. And now you’re doing a life sentence for a crime that he committed--”

“Shut up,” Merlin told him, anger hovering on the surface. 

“Merlin--” 

Merlin jumped up from the cot as though it were on fire and fixed a dark look on Arthur. “Just shut the fuck up!” he yelled, his tone menacing.

“Merlin, you shouldn’t even be here!” Arthur argued. It made him crazy to think that Merlin was serving time in this place for something he hadn’t even done. 

“Neither should you!” Merlin returned.

Arthur shook his head, countering, “I killed someone. It was an accident, granted, but a woman died because of my irresponsibility. I’m at fault. But you—you didn’t actually kill anybody. You were protecting your brother.”

Merlin shrugged, the anger seeming to fall away. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ve still done some terrible things in my short lifetime.”

“But not what you’ve been sentenced to life for. Merlin--”

“I made my choice, Arthur,” Merlin said determinedly. “And I’d make it again.” He moved into Arthur’s personal space and glared at him with obvious threat. “And if you say anything to anyone, you’ll find out just how nasty I can be.”

**

Arthur let the matter drop. At first, he let it go because Merlin had wanted him to – Arthur had never felt intimidated by Merlin even if the young con could talk a good threat when he wanted to. And, as the years ticked by, with Arthur getting closer and closer to his parole eligibility date, he wilfully pushed it aside because he knew he could not survive his time in Albion without Merlin. He needed Merlin. It was completely selfish, he knew - letting Merlin wallow away more years in prison for a crime he hadn’t committed - but Arthur just could not bear the thought of losing him, even if only to the world outside.

And Merlin, forever the masochist, seemed content to go along with Arthur’s selfishness. 

Of course, there were a few bumps over those years. Merlin did three more stints in solitary confinement, the longest period ninety-six hours for starting and, by all assessments, winning a fight with Alvarr who tried to mess with the pecking order by knocking Merlin – who was impressively resilient - down a peg. Each time Merlin returned from solitary, he was desperate and needy for Arthur, and they spent as much time as was possible with their bodies together, mouths and hands touching. And one time, after two years, they were faced with the danger of being separated when Officer Myror suggested to the Warden that Arthur be moved to a different cell. In the end they were spared this devastation by a report submitted by Officer Leon Knight, which recommended that it was in the best interests of everyone if Emrys and Pendragon continued to share a cell.

Arthur didn’t think much about his potential parole and, if Merlin thought about it at all, he kept it pretty well to himself, except for the occasional reminder that Arthur needed to stay out of trouble and that he intended to make sure he did.

But the day finally did come. And fourteen hundred and sixty-six days after Arthur had first come to Albion, Officer Knight came around to take him back to Intake - or maybe it was Outtake now – so he could reclaim his clothes and personal property before being released into his half-sister’s care. 

“See ya,” Merlin said, trying to keep things light but Arthur could discern the heavy emotion that was tucked under the surface.

Arthur didn’t care that Officer Knight was waiting for him, watching. He pulled Merlin into a hug and kissed him, full on the mouth and with unrestrained passion, and was happy to find Merlin kissing him back, all the tucked in emotions he was feeling melting into the kiss. Officer Knight coughed lightly. Arthur made himself pull his mouth away and rested his cheek against Merlin’s.

“I’m going to get you out of here, Merlin,” he whispered. “I promise.” 

**

And Arthur did.

It took a year and the help of Lance, Gwen and Merlin’s mother Hunith but Merlin was finally exonerated and released. It turned out that the slain officer’s partner, who claimed to have arrived on the scene after his partner had been fatally shot, had seen exactly what had happened. But he had been so desperate for justice that when Merlin had confessed to doing the shooting to protect young Mordred, he had let him. It had taken some persistence on the part of Arthur and his friends, but the officer finally did come forward to tell the truth of what had happened and his part in keeping silent all those years.

Mordred had fled and was currently wanted by the police for several assaults and weapons charges. He had not been in touch with Hunith for over three years now and Arthur had had to remind both Merlin and his mother that they had done all they could for Mordred and that sometimes people did not want to be helped or saved. It was now time for young Mordred to find his own path.

**

Arthur went with Hunith to collect Merlin from Albion on the day he was released, twenty-nine hundred and twenty-five days after Merlin had been incarcerated to serve a life sentence for first degree murder. 

Merlin was brought to the room by Officer Knight, who gave Arthur a little nod, as they entered the room. Merlin was dressed in his ‘street’ clothes, a pair of dark jeans and a button down, and was carrying a small duffle bag which contained his personal belongings. 

Arthur was surprised by the overwhelming emotion he felt when he saw him. He had visited Merlin over the past year as often as he had been able and the conditions of his parole had allowed, but it was almost as though Arthur felt he was seeing Merlin for the first time. And it was a sight he wanted to experience every day, now and forever.

Upon seeing her son, Hunith burst into tears and rushed to hug him. Arthur looked on, smiling, delighted to see Hunith so happy as she crushed Merlin in her warm embrace. It took several minutes before Merlin was finally able to move out of his mother’s arms and he now stood before Arthur. He looked almost shy and tentative and Arthur moved to reach out and pull him close, touching their foreheads together.

“Missed you,” he said. 

Arthur was surprised to see tears well up in Merlin’s eyes, definitely a strange but welcome sight. He saw Merlin’s lips turn up into a familiar grin. “Me too,” Merlin whispered.

“Ready to go home?” Arthur asked, knowing the answer.

Merlin nodded. Then, with his mother clutching one arm and Arthur taking hold of the other, Merlin walked out of Albion Prison a free man.

And neither he nor Arthur ever looked back.

**


End file.
